


Anyone But You

by Bornofpepperoni, TheDeadAreWalking



Series: Valeyne Extravaganza [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Choose Your Own Ending, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Internalized hatred, M/M, Soulmate AU, Underage Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 09:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14690964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bornofpepperoni/pseuds/Bornofpepperoni, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeadAreWalking/pseuds/TheDeadAreWalking
Summary: It wasn't supposed to happen like this. None of it was. Jeremiah was a smart kid, going places. He would get a soulmate eventually he was sure, but for now, school was his priority.Normally he didn't return to his adopted family for the summer but made the exception for once at his mother's request.Upon coming home, he agreed to help tutor one of the neighbor's children: Bruce Wayne. However, in the end, he ended up with a lot bigger problem then teaching a billionaire math.Jeremiah thinks this must be the cruelest joke of all.-Disclaimer: All dubious things mentioned in the tag are just that. Mentioned. Nothing happens between anyone until they are of legal age.





	1. Main Story

**Author's Note:**

> I want to start by saying thank you for reading this. Its been the funniest fic writing experience I've ever had. 
> 
> Shout out to Dylan for cheering us on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give this story a chance it was a labor of love!

Jeremiah wasn’t surprised that his mother had guest over as he began unloading his possessions from his car for the summer. He had decided to return home this summer instead of continuing his studies year round. ‘It's your last year as a child,’ his mother had said urging him to come home. He didn't feel like reminding her that eighteen was very much an adult age. His mother wouldn't hear it. 

He opened the door to the house and was greeted with the smiling face of his mother. Adopted mother, Linda, but he never let that bother him. He loved her just the same. She rushed over and pulled him into a hug as he dropped his bag at the door, hugging her back. He would be lying if he said he didn't miss her while away at school. She pulled back, smiling brightly and that's when he spotted the other women. 

“Mrs.Wayne, I assume, I've heard a lot about you,” Jeremiah said extending a hand. She graciously took it with a smile. 

“I hope nothing bad,” Martha Wayne mused in a light tone. The Wayne’s lived down the street from his own family home. They had the biggest house in the neighborhood and were a household name. His family moved into the area the same time he left for school. His mother had been so nervous the first time she had met the women. Jeremiah remembers the excited emails he received from her as they grew to be close friends. 

Jeremiah shook his head, “Of course not. You've kept my mother company all these years I've been away. I'm nothing but grateful for you.”

His mother lightly touched his arm, “Well, I can't fault you for not being here, Jeremiah. It would be a waste to not have you at school.”

Jeremiah felt a slight sting at the words. He knew it was the truth but being shipped off to a school away from his family always sat wrong with him. Martha didn't seem to notice as she perked up, “Oh! Your mother has told me so much about your schooling. She's very proud! Only eighteen and leaving school with two PhD. You're already light years ahead of the average person. You'll make a great soulmate to someone one day.”

Jeremiah chuckled nervously and nodded as he made his way to the kitchen, both women following him as they discussed his life. He knew it was just what mothers did but he never felt comfortable being discussed, “Whoever he's destined for will be the luckiest person alive. I'm not just saying that because I have to, honey,” Jeremiah let a strangled smile come to his face as he got himself a glass of water to calm himself, “I remember the day I saw you, Jer. You were so young and scared but I knew in that moment you were destined for some much. I had to have you as my son,” all three people had let the conversation grow heavy. His mother sighed and attempted to lighten the mood again, “Plus, he helped build the schematics for any renovations we add to the home.”

Martha let the awkward tension leave as she laughed along, “Must you praise me wherever I go?” Jeremiah asked as he rolled his eye. 

“It's my job, of course, I do,” Linda laughed before turning to Martha, “and how’s your son doing?”

Martha eagerly clapped her hands together as if she had been waiting for someone to ask, “My Bruce is rather smart in his own right, very business savvy like his father. However, math hasn't been a strong suit of his. He takes after me in that regard. He isn't below average in any sense of the word, he just needs to be pushed a bit more.”

Linda nodded in agreement, “I understand Martha dear, it must be hard to see him struggle even a bit in academics,” the women fixed her blonde hair back into it's perfectly set bun, blue eyes sympathizing with the other women. 

“I could always help,” Jeremiah pitched in from behind them, hand holding the now empty water glass and hand, “I am here all summer. I don't have much else to do and work helps me stay sane.”

Martha’s eyes lighted up, “How perfect! I'm sure you aren't in need of any money but we would be more than happy to compensate you for your time.”

Setting down his glass, he waved it off, “Please Mrs. Wayne, consider it thanks for all you've done for my mother. Plus, I haven't met Bruce after all these years, it seems overdue. He is twelve now, right?”

“Correct! What an observant boy, perhaps that too will rub off on Bruce,” Martha added with a small laugh, “Bruce has a habit of spending too much time in his own head. It gives him a wonderful imagination but I worry he is missing real life. I would so appreciate the help, the boy is an absolute delight but the other tutors we hired were all past their prime and never got through to him.”

Jeremiah gave a slight smile and nodded, “Well hopefully I will have better luck, is there a time you would need me to start?”

“Next week? Starting Monday? Just the afternoons as I don't want to steal you too much in your time home,” Martha said sending a sympathetic smile to Linda. 

Linda smiled, hand slightly patting Martha’s shoulder, “Please Martha, like Jeremiah said, consider it a thanks for all you've done.”

“Consider it done, Mrs Wayne,” Jeremiah smiled. 

Martha nodded and glanced at her watch, “Oh dear! Linda, darling, I'm running late. Don't forget the party starts at seven sharp so don't show up until eight.”

Jeremiah lifted an eyebrow. His mother immediately saw, “Oh, I forgot to mention. The Wayne's are hosting a party tonight and before you ask: yes. You are expected to come. Martha has arranged for you to talk to Thomas. It might be a great opportunity for you.”

Martha nodded as she made her way to the door, “She’s right, Jeremiah. I told Thomas about your studies and he's very interested in bringing you on board.”

Jeremiah stood stuttering for a moment. He really hated parties, “But I don't have anything to wear.”

Martha laughed, “We’re wealthy, honey. Not maniacs, wear whatever you're comfortable in. Think of it as meeting Bruce before being trapped in a room and trying to get him to understand math equations.”

The door closed behind her leaving no room for argument, “Do I--”

“You're going.”

Jeremiah sighed and felt anxious now that he was finally alone with his mother, “Mom, are we going to talk? I saw the news, I know what he did.”

Linda’s eyes filled with hurt, “Later, after the party.”

\--

Jeremiah had been talking to Thomas when it happened. He felt his ears fill with static and mouth with cotton. The words Thomas said became background noise as he watched someone walk into the room. 

God no, he thought.

He grabbed his wrist as a sudden pain shot through it. Thomas immediately noticed, “Oh would you look at that!” Thomas said excitedly looking around the room to see who Jeremiah had spotted and triggered his soulmark to appear, “Who's the lucky lad--”

Thomas fell silent as he followed Jeremiah’s eyes. Jeremiah felt his legs turn numb. He had always been told meeting your soulmate would be one of the best moments of your life but in the moment he wanted nothing more than to disappear. He wanted to run away and not have to deal with the fallout of what was to come, “No,” Jeremiah breathed out as his soulmate rushed towards him. 

The boy was young, so so young. Brown hair disheveled from running around most likely, checkered vest over a plain shirt with fitted slacks. He looked like the son of a billionaire obviously, which made it obvious within seconds who it was. Jeremiah knew it was only a few seconds it took the kid to run over, but in his mind, it felt like years, his vision going blurry even with the aid of glasses. This wasn't supposed to happen like this. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Two arms wrapped his midsection and Jeremiah couldn't help but feel like this was some cruel prank. The room around them fell silent as his soulmate quickly pulled away and began talking excitedly. He felt every eye in the room trained on him. He heard the distant sound of a wine glass shattering followed by a gasp from Martha, saw the horror etched across Thomas’s face, and disgusted looks thrown his way from everyone else

Tears welled in his eyes as he looked down at his soulmate. He didn't deserve this. He didn't ask for this.

“Hi, I'm Bruce Wayne.”

Jeremiah felt a tear run down his face. 

\--

“And they say I'm the fucked up one in the family!” The harsh laugh filled the room around them. Jeremiah wrung his hands together. Maybe seeing him hadn't been smart. 

“I think our situations are very different, Jerome,” Jeremiah hissed, eyes glaring at a face identical to his own. However, Jerome’s was separated by the glass of the Arkham visiting room, “you murdered our mother.”

Jerome waved a hand dismissively, other hand used to press the phone to his ear, “And you're fucking children. Some people, most people, would say you're sicker than I am.”

Jeremiah banged a fist on the table, “I'm not sleeping with him!”

Jerome laughed and raised his free hand in a mock surrender, “Oh sure, not now but you think about it, don't you? I would,” Jeremiah hoped his brother would rot here.

“You're sick,” Jeremiah choked out, face turning red with anger and frustration. Was he letting himself get ridiculed by the man who murdered their parents? “I’m not a fucking pedophile, Jerome. I don't think like you.”

“He’s cute, don't you think?” a disturbing smile crossed his lips and Jeremiah felt a shudder run through him, “Two sides of the same coin, brother,” Jerome hummed, “So what? The family is just letting you have little play dates with him,” Jeremiah nodded. He’s not sure why he felt the need to tell Jerome everything. Maybe it's because he’s his twin, maybe it's because he's the only one who might understand, maybe it's because he locked away and Jeremiah’s secrets are locked away with him. Nonetheless, there Jeremiah sat, a wall between the two as he hissed at his twin inside an insane asylum.

“I'm his tutor but he’s so young, Jerome. He's fucking twelve. He talks about us getting married, talks about having children together. He doesn't understand what's happening,” Jeremiah worried at a small hangnail. Panic rose in his chest again, bile creeping up his throat.

“What do the kid’s parents think?” Jerome prodded, seemingly enjoying the way the questions made him squirm. They definitely made the other squirm.

“They hate me. They won't let me near him,” Jeremiah whispered, “as if they think I'm waiting to just pounce on him.”

“And Linda?” Jerome spits the name out like acid. They had briefly discussed Jeremiah’s adoption but if quickly turned into an argument, Jerome nearly shattering the glass between them and breaking his knuckles in the process. He had been laughing hysterically the entire time he was being pulled away.

“She can't look me in the eye,” Jeremiah mumbled, “I can see pity on her face but also disgust. She regrets adopting me, I can see it. I'm nothing but an embarrassment now. After everything I’ve done for them, they have practically disowned me for something I can't control, ” Jeremiah hissed every word, hands clenching the phone so tight his knuckles turned white. Sometimes he wonders if Jerome’s right. Maybe they are the same. 

Jerome laughed at him. It should have hurt but it Jeremiah had heard the laughter for fat too many times to care anymore, “You were always just a trophy to her. She saw you, ‘sad little abused Jeremiah but with so much potential’ and she just snatched you away. She never gave a damn about you, only the bragging rights.”

Jeremiah looked away, words cutting deep and close to home, he knew there was truth in them, “Better than you trying to murder me. You never gave a damn about me either, only my corpse.”

Jerome glared at him for a moment, a wicked smile slowly peeking through, “Better a murderer than a pedophile.”

Jeremiah slammed the phone back into its holder. 

-

Bruce had begged his parents to let Jeremiah tutor him like he had overheard his father talk about. Being so young he didn't understand why everyone kept pulling him away from his soulmate, especially since all the stories said it was supposed to be magical. Jeremiah had even cried! Bruce himself shed a few happy tears at finally having his soulmate. He was even better than he'd hoped. 

His parents had pulled the two away rather quickly, Bruce was upset and wanting to get to know the other. He was confused as to why his soulmate said nothing as he was dragged away. Alfred had placed him in his room which happened to give Bruce a perfect the view of Thomas practically screaming at Jeremiah to leave outside in the front garden. Bruce didn't understand and had cried himself, why were they making him leave? His mother always talked about how finding your soulmate was the happiest moment of your life. 

Why were they ruining it? 

Later on, Bruce had overheard his parents talking about how Jeremiah was going to be a tutor and would've helped if not for the fact he was a disgusting pedophile. Bruce didn't have the largest vocabulary yet, so the word went right over his head. Hearing that Jeremiah had the opportunity to be at the manor more, Bruce didn't waste a moment barging in to beg for Jeremiah to return. 

Thomas was stubborn, hard to crack, but Martha had a weak spot for her son and soon pouted to Thomas too, “Alfred could supervise Thomas honey, Bruce does need the tutoring. Jeremiah won't leave the manor with his hands if anything happens, Alfred would protect Bruce with his life.”

Thomas, puffing out some smoke from his pipe as he reclined in his chair, sighed, “If you believe it will help dear then…okay. We can give the boy a chance,” he mumbled. Turning his head towards the door, Thomas now called out “Alfred!” However, Alfred only took a step from around the corner, apparently eavesdropping as well. It was clear who had taught the young man to do it now. 

“As Master Martha said,” Alfred nodded, hands folded behind his back and attire as perfectly ironed and symmetrical as always, “I would protect Master Bruce with my life.”

Bruce doesn't understand all the fuss. 

-

The years that followed weren't easy on Jeremiah. He had hoped that as he spent time with Bruce the boy’s infatuation would subside but if anything he watched it grow and morph into something dangerous. 

When they had begun Bruce had been anxious, Jeremiah could see him nervously itching around his seat and Jeremiah took comfort in that fact Bruce was uncomfortable around him. If Bruce. was uncomfortable then it didn't give any room for anything to happen. So Alfred sat and watched them as Jeremiah tried to teach Bruce all the things he was lacking from his schooling. He pushed the thought of soulmates away and settled for uneasy close proximity. It was safe. 

His life fell into a jumbled mess, much like his mind. He tried to occupy himself with puzzles, specifically mazes. He felt if he made them on paper he might make one for his mind. He might finally be able to lose himself in the uncomfortable reality he lived. 

Then Jerome passed. 

He was nineteen and he sat at the funeral feeling numb. The idiot had tried to escape and was shot like a dog. All this time he spent hating his brother but now that he was finally gone he didn't know what to do. Jerome had been his only escape in a twisted sort of way. He knew things Jeremiah wouldn't even tell a priest, all his secrets. They were lowered into the cold ground along with his brother. 

_‘I hate myself for what I think sometimes,’ he had whispered. Afraid the guards would hear him and lock him away too, ‘What I think about him…’_

_‘You're just as crazy as I am, brother,’ Jerome had laughed, ‘maybe even worse.’_

Jeremiah wonders if it would be better if he was the one being buried. 

-

As the years went and came, things got harder to understand. Jeremiah would go back to school and return to Bruce being a little taller and a little more filled out. Bruce had begun messaging him while he was away. He tried to keep all texts short and to the point. He wished Bruce wouldn't talk to him at all. 

Then he was twenty one and Thomas offered him a job. He could tell it pained him to offer, but, despite everything, Jeremiah was still a genius. The man pushed aside his personal feelings for the betterment of his business. There has been a small party to celebrate at Wayne Tower. 

Jeremiah felt comfortable around his soon to be co-workers. Safe with the knowledge they saw him as nothing more than someone to share the workload with. He liked coworkers, they never cared about personal lives. But then he saw Bruce. 

He wasn't sure how he had managed to get in but he was dressed in a suit and made his way to where Jeremiah stood. They never did this, meet outside of the manor. Never without Alfred close behind. This felt dangerous. 

He could feel the eyes around the room trained on them as Bruce congratulated him. He tried not to think about the way Bruce wouldn't look away. Especially not about the fact that he wasn't sure he could look away either. 

-

It was bound to happen, they had been hurtling towards the inevitable for too long. Bruce’s parents learning to trust him more, Alfred not being constantly around. He should have seen it ahead of time. 

Maybe he did and he just didn't want to acknowledge it. 

It was supposed to be like every other day for the past four years. He would come in the afternoons, teach Bruce, then leave. That's all it was supposed to be. That's all it was supposed to be. 

It soon becomes a lot more than it was supposed to be. 

More than he could handle.

They were at the kitchen table, Bruce sitting close beside him as they went over math. Alfred had taken the night off, trusting Jeremiah enough for one night to leave them alone. Jeremiah had a lump in his throat at that. Especially since Bruce was getting older and no longer had the face of a twelve year old. That made it easier sometimes, pretending Bruce was still twelve and helpless. Now he was sixteen, deep voice developing along with the rest of him and Jeremiah had to resist gagging that afternoon when Bruce came downstairs looking older than he had any right to look at his age. 

Now they sat, side by side as Jeremiah taught him advanced algebraic equations, Bruce nodding along but really only looking at Jeremiah. The redhead cleared his throat, his hand tightening around the pencil as he willed himself to ignore the looks Bruce was giving him. Clearing his throat and fixing his glasses, he passed the paper to Bruce, “It's rather simple if you know the correct formulas involved.”

Bruce slowly grabbed the pencil, fingers brushing Jeremiah’s hand enough to cause the other to jerk his hand away. Squeezing his eyes shut, bile rose in his throat, Jeremiah stood up and moved around the table to get some water. Bruce gave a slightly confused look but did the work as he was told. Over the years, the tutoring helped him significantly, the billionaire advancing in his studies far faster than the other kids in the academy. 

Bruce liked to insist he could do better and that's why he continued the tutor sessions but, it was fooling nobody. The boy just wanted to be with his soulmate; in a way, nobody could blame him.

Jeremiah drank an entire glass of water, filling the delicate crystal glass to the very brim before swallowing the whole thing without coming up for air. He wanted to dip his entire body into ice water but for now, this would have to do. His thoughts began to edge to places he didn't want them to go, hands twitching as Bruce looked up to Jeremiah through his eyelashes to see if his answers were correct. _Fuck._

Setting the glass down with shaky hands, he rounded the table to examine the work. Half his brain pleading to the other half to stop thinking about Bruce. Jeremiah wanted to think about everything but Bruce in his tight slacks and matching navy blue button-up. _Fuck._

Bruce scooted closer once Jeremiah sat down again on his separate bar stool, sirens and red flags blinding the redhead’s vision practically at this point. A panic attack was on the cusp of breaking loose, and all it took was Bruce gently resting his hand on Jeremiah’s thigh to bring it out. 

Jeremiah practically fell out of his seat as he jumped away. Heart hammering, Bruce followed after him, “Jeremiah what's wrong?” However, Bruce’s words were lost in his head, heart hammering so loud everything was muted. 

Jeremiah, hand on his forehead, eyes clouded with conflict, paced in circles. This was too much. Bruce stayed back, not wanting to make the situation worse than it appeared to be, so instead he got the man some more water. “Here,” Bruce whispered after a moment, handing him the glass cautiously. The older manat Bruce with sweat on the sides of his temple and eyebrows quivering in a way you thought only cartoon characters did. Taking the glass without a word, he calmed the chaos inside himself as best he could. 

“Thank you,” Jeremiah muttered before drinking it. Bruce smiling at Jeremiah for actually addressing him. The small smile proved overpowering, too. In his mind, Jeremiah beat the part of himself down that thought about Bruce, inner disgust coming out full force as it always did. When the water was gone, Jeremiah felt slightly better. Setting the glass down on the counter, he propped up his body with his hands on the marble. 

Bruce, hands in his pocket, walked beside him, silent as ever, “You’ve been so…jittery. I’ve noticed it for weeks. You don't have to tell me I get it, wanting to keep secrets and all but, are you okay?”

“I think it's about time I should go,” Jeremiah croaked out, voice rough and scratchy. Bruce frowned as Jeremiah stood up straight, fixing his coat. 

“Y-you just got here Miah, already? Did I do something wrong?” Bruce grabbed Jeremiah’s hand before the redhead could pull away. Jeremiah immediately tensed, the thoughts he had just beat down resurfaced with a vengeance. Why couldn't he just stop? Bruce was a good kid, a really good kid, and he deserved so much more than Jeremiah. 

Jeremiah tried to tug his hand away quickly but Bruce held him and turned the other to face him. The younger boy’s brown eyes prodded his, searching for answers and a response. Jeremiah couldn't meet his eyes, Bruce’s touch feeling like fire on his. Science had always taught that your hormones couldn't control themselves when in contact with your soulmate, your brain short-circuited in a sense. Jeremiah’s brain was definitely short-circuiting now. 

Slowly, green eyes met brown, Bruce holding his hand as they both stared at each other with silence echoing off the high ceilings of the kitchen. Without warning, Bruce leaned up, having to slightly boost himself up to kiss the other. However, Bruce’s lips never met Jeremiah’s. 

Jeremiah pulled away with lightning fast reflexes, actually falling back onto the floor. “FUCK!” he shouted. Bruce watched completely startled as Jeremiah scrambled up from the floor in panic, “B-Bruce no! No, we can't. No!”

“Why not? Nobody is home, and I'm-” Bruce pleaded, moving in on Jeremiah as he backed away.

“You are sixteen, Bruce! I'm twenty-fucking-two! W-We can't…holy fuck, no we can't do this.”

Bruce almost appeared mad now, hands balled into fists at his sides as he scowled, “I’m old enough to know what I want I'm not twelve, Jeremiah.”

“No, because when you were twelve I was eighteen and you wanted to get married,” Jeremiah wiped his hands on his jacket vigorously as if they had been contaminated. He had to leave. He had to go and he couldn't come back. Not after this. Never after this, “Bruce, no. You are still blinded by what soulmates are supposed to be. What we can’t be. We cant…w-we just can't. You are so young, so young,” Jeremiah panicked, running to the front door to grab his coat. 

Bruce followed behind, worried he had ruined it all, “Miah! Wait I’m sorry! I won't do it again please stop!”

Jeremiah knew Bruce wasn't telling the truth, and honesty, he couldn't say he wouldn't try something either. When Bruce was twelve and thirteen he could think of Bruce as a younger brother. Then he turned fourteen and his own hormones kicked in, then fifteen but still denying Bruce had been easier. He was young and the heinous thoughts were barely even there. But now, Bruce just a few years away from being of legal age, he couldn’t risk it. Couldn't risk any of it. He didn’t want to see Bruce again, no matter the age. He couldn’t.

“I have to go Bruce. We can talk about this tomorrow okay?” Jeremiah said, throwing on his coat quickly. Before Bruce even had a chance to respond, the door was thrown closed. The dark headed boy could only watch in horror of what he had done. 

Deep down, Bruce knew even then he would not see Jeremiah for a long time. He rubbed his wrist in worry.

-

Leaving had been both the easiest and hardest thing he had ever done. Less than a week after he had walked away from Bruce, he purchased a small plot of land on the outskirts of Gotham and begun working on the only thing that kept him sane, his mazes.

He hired workers outside of the city and used false names; within a month he was safely tucked away under the ground in his own slice of heaven. Or was it hell. Perhaps a form of limbo.

He wasn’t sure what his plan was, he just knew he needed to leave, needed to be away from the whispers, from the judging eyes, and from Bruce. Especially Bruce. He needed to breathe. He had been worried about Linda, what she would say about his disappearance; but he had people stop by to make sure she was doing okay. Jeremiah soon realized she didn’t seem saddened. If anything, she was happy. He heard word she had even gotten plans to move.

Jeremiah felt tears fill his eyes, hunched over the desk in his secret room deep inside his maze. His mother really didn’t care. Jerome had been right, he was just a shiny trophy to show off. Jerome had been right, a small chuckle fell from his lips at the thought before he clasped a hand over his mouth.

He had been thinking about Jerome a lot, possibly too much. He threw himself into his work to occupy his mind when the famous couple’s murder shocked the entire Gotham area. Even himself, as removed from the world as he had become, heard about the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne. 

It happened in front of their only son.

In front of Bruce.

Jeremiah wasn’t sure what made him do it but he found himself standing in the back of the large crowd as a rabbi and priest gave sermons. Jeremiah wants to say he’s here to pay his respects to Thomas, a thanks for giving him his job, but really, he just wanted to see Bruce one last time. He was being selfish, stealing glances at Bruce without letting him know he was there but, he thinks he needed it. He needs it. 

As the bodies were lowered into the ground, Jeremiah turned and left. Staying any longer would make it impossible to leave.

Bruce sat numbly next to Alfred as he watched his parents get settled into their final resting place when he felt a tug. He turned around and looked at everyone in attendance when he saw a figure walking away. He felt a fresh sob rise in his throat.

-

It’s had been almost three years since Jeremiah left, left everyone. It was like he’d never existed. It was one year since the funeral, where he had to sit alone with only Alfred to comfort him as his parents were buried six feet under. Bruce was tired. Every day felt like a struggle, he woke up feeling like half a person. 

He had spent two of the past three years searching for Jeremiah, using any resources could get a hold of. The Wayne Enterprises’ intel that he received at eighteenth birthday due to his father's will aided the search the most but, Jeremiah had seemingly vanished off the earth. 

Bruce knew Jeremiah must at least be alive since he was sure he saw him at the funeral. Alfred had told him it was the grief making him delusional, giving him the hallucination, but he knew Jeremiah. He would ever forget him, he knows, he’d tried. 

It seemed hopeless in all attempts to find his soulmate, every lead coming to a sudden and sharp dead end. To everyone but Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska never existed. 

He never gave up, relentless in his search, his determination to find his soulmate never waned. Some of his older friends were getting married as soon as they were of age, he knew a lot of people who met their soulmates young who had done that, too. Not Bruce though, he still had to find the one he let get away. Alfred urged him to stop, move on and to find someone else. 

“There are plenty of people with soulmates who have passed, Master B. They're just as happy as anyone else,” he remarked rubbing his own faded soulmark. Bruce had screamed at him. He’d never lashed out like he did that night but years worth of hurt needed somewhere to go and it finally exploded.

“He’s not fucking dead, Alfred! He left! He left me! He left me!” Bruce finally let Alfred close him and he sobbed into the shoulder of the only person he had left.

-

 

He was nineteen now, his birthday was the day before and his hope was wavering. He hardly slept, his nights all consisting of research and mornings consisting of getting through business meetings. His life was an endless circle and the monotony of it all was drowning Bruce. 

Then it happened, he finally found something. A report of a blonde woman going to the same restaurant Jeremiah use to go to. Every Tuesday at exactly 5 pm came in; exactly what Jeremiah did. Bruce remembers the one time Jeremiah had agreed to pick him up some food before coming over. Bruce remembers thinking it was possibly the best thing he’d ever tasted.

After doing facial recognition and coming up with not much else other than the alias ‘Ecco’, he was determined to see if there was any correlation. Due to the fact that her schedule matched Jeremiah’s in nearly every way with even city security cameras confirming this and the fact she had no record whatsoever, this could be the lead he had been searching for. 

So he waited at that restaurant the following Tuesday, arriving early and in his casual attire. He needed to fit in, though it's not like anyone was very suspicious of him. Nobody cared to recognize the billionaire anyway, people never noticed him unless they were looking for him. 

Checking his digital watch, he reclined a bit in his metal chair when he heard the bell on the door ring precisely as the clock hit five pm. Amazing, in a way, he thought. But Jeremiah was always punctual and obsessed with order. Bruce missed his stuffy sense of order. 

Ecco, the blonde girl he had identified earlier went to the empty counter and recited an order without even looking at the menu. Bruce could be wrong, she could have nothing to do with Jeremiah, but he would be damned if he didn't at least try. 

As she went to leave, Bruce throws a hundred dollar bill on the table as a tip and got up to cut her off before she could get away. Opening the door for him, she gave a short and brief nod, expression schooled but body language showed tension; ready for a fight, “Tell Jeremiah to drop by, three years is a long time to keep someone waiting.”

The girl’s eyes seemed more intrigued than surprised as she watched Bruce walk off without even turning around to see her reaction again. Food in hand, Ecco glanced down at her watch: 5:15. Jeremiah had told her Bruce may eventually find her. This outcome was to be expected. Watching Bruce cross the busy street, hands in his flowy black overcoat, she knew already Jeremiah wouldn’t resist the invitation. 

He couldn't. 

She almost didn’t want to tell him.

-

Years had passed but the hurt felt fresh as he approached the mansion. Bruce had wanted to see him, had searched for him; all he had found was Ecco. Jeremiah owed him a visit and an explanation. He wanted to run but with a shaky hand, he knocked on the door, gathering as much courage as he could. It had been years. The door opened to reveal Alfred, Jeremiah wasn’t sure what he expected from the older man but a look of pity wasn’t one of them.

“He’s in the greenhouse, Mister Valeska,” the butler said in a mild tone. Jeremiah nodded and walked through the threshold as Alfred closed the door behind him, “Mister Valeska, don’t hurt him. Not more than you already have.” Jeremiah said nothing as he walked farther into the house. He didn’t want to lie to the old man, especially not after all the lies he left behind. 

Jeremiah sighed as he stood outside the greenhouse. He could see Bruce standing next to some flowers, glancing longingly towards the yard beyond the screen wall. He looked deep and thought, Jeremiah wonders if he should have called ahead, “Hello Bruce.”

The younger man spun around, “Jeremiah,” he breathed out. It was silent for a moment, both of them examining the other with a sense of confusion and awe. Bruce had grown somehow taller, dark hair slicked back with fitting dark clothes to match. He had grown into a man, Jeremiah noted almost sadly. However, the initial reunion was cut short, Bruce’s face flicking between delight, confusion and utter distress, underneath it all lied an anger. Opening his mouth slowly, Bruce broke the silence,“You fucking bastard.”

Jeremiah wasn’t sure how to respond at first, a million answers and explanations flying around before his eyes. How could he explain any of what happened? Jeremiah approached slowly, “What do you want me to say, Bruce?”

“That's all you have to say? Really?” Bruce fought back all the childhood crushed dreams that resurfaced at the sight of the man that left him, “Highly inappropriate given you invited yourself here to question me after all these years.”

Jeremiah fixed his glasses, examining the perfectly cared for white roses behind Bruce, eyes downcast a moment before they flicked back up to stare back into the familiar brown eyes, “Bruce I…I don't know how to explain everything. I thought I did and when Ecco told me you had reached her, I thought it was time for me to explain.”

Bruce, arms crossed and fists clenched, gave a humorless laugh at that, “Yeah. Time to explain why one day we are fine and the next I am told by Alfred you wouldn't be returning,” it was obvious the younger man was straining himself to keep his emotions in check, “Imagine that, your soulmate there one minute, gone the next.”

Rubbing the bridge between his eyebrows, Jeremiah sighed, “D-Don’t call me-” he never got to finish. 

“What? My soulmate? Well, hard chance Miah cause that's what you are. My soulmate. Nobody else’s, mine. Yet, you decided that didn't matter hmm?” Dropping his arms to his sides again, Bruce took an angered step forward. Years of frustration and pain was practically spilling onto the floor now, “And you know what? It wasn't up to you.”

“Bruce…you were young. So, so young. You were sixteen when I left, now your nineteen. I was twenty-two, Bruce! You have to understand how that looked-”Jeremiah realized he had to get used to not finishing his sentences in this conversation. 

“You left me! I know I was younger but you, the person who was supposed to love me more than anyone, left me!” Bruce shouted, hand flying into the air. That thin, helpless barrier flying down at long last, the pain pouring out like a floor ready to sweep up Jeremiah and everything else in its path. Frustration was clearly obvious, the emotion practically painted across the other’s face and body.

“Do you have any idea how much it hurt me?” Jeremiah pleaded, “Do you know how much it hurt me to be away from you? I had to though, for both our safety. I might have done something, I might have done something… ” Jeremiah trailed off, remembering the impure thoughts he had for Bruce. They had clouded Jeremiah’s mind for too long. 

Bruce steamrolled on, ignoring the words Jeremiah said. They were having two different conversations at this point, both spending too many years thinking about this moment to understand the other, "My friends, one by one, got to flaunt their soulmates around and love them but no, not us. You ran away. You left, like a coward, because people picked on you for being nice to someone who would one day be eighteen. Guess fucking what, Miah? I’m nineteen now, you never had to leave me.”

"Bruce, do you know what might have happened if I had done something? Do you have any idea how much I struggled? You were a fucking child! It goes beyond people being mean due to me being nice to you Bruce. It's so much…more than that,” Jeremiah groaned, remembering the night Bruce had tried to touch him, the night he decided to leave, "Bruce, I-I tried everything not to think about you! You were so young and I wanted to be with you, but I couldn't. I tried everything, drinking, drugs, pills, hell I even slept with-" That last part was a mistake. 

Bruce looking at him with pain filling his eyes, tears he had been trying to bite back before. "You...you slept with someone...," Bruce felt numb, “Who was it?” Jeremiah felt immediate guilt wash over him. 

Jeremiah shrugged, “Ecco, Bruce, it was Ecco. I just wanted to prove something. Show myself I could make it without you.”

Bruce tried to stop his lip from quivering, “How did that work out? Was she good for you? Did she give you everything you wouldn’t let me give you?” Bruce turned and stormed out of the greenhouse without a word. Jeremiah felt the cool air enter the humid room as he followed him into the night. Every step he took towards Bruce felt wrong in the back of his head; that built-in disgust of his own actions kicking into full. 

"Fine! What would have you wanted? Tell me, Bruce! Huh?” Jeremiah snapped, “Would you have wanted me to _fuck_ you? You were fourteen, a fuckin kid! Is that what would have made you happy?"

Bruce, silently crying with his chin held up high, stopped in his tracks and turned to Jeremiah, "All I wanted was a friend. I thought you were mine. I didn't need you to sleep with me. I needed my soulmate, someone who cared about me. I wanted to continue to have you tutor me, have us get a milkshake then part ways like always. Then I woke up and never saw you again for years. I thought you wouldn't ever return and I worry you wouldn’t have unless I found you. It has been three years, Jeremiah. Three years.”

Jeremiah turns slightly away, hand raised to his mouth to hold in his own sobs, "I wanted that too…but I wanted more, Bruce. You couldn't understand. I wanted...I want so much with you that I can't have. Even now we can't. It's too destroyed, the stitch has been broken."

Bruce furrows his eyebrows, eyes puffy with tears and the anger he was consumed by, "Well why not? You went through _all_ that trouble to preserve my innocence. You thought the best course of action was running away and now it's another excuse? _'It’s too broken’?_ Why can't you let yourself give in now? I'm nineteen, Jeremiah, I’m an adult. You don't have to be ashamed of me anymore!" 

Jeremiah spun back to face Bruce. His face was twisted in rage and sorrow, "Because I'm broken! Bruce the things I thought about you aren't normal! My love for you isn't _normal!_ We," he motioned erratically between them, "aren't normal!"

Bruce had to scoff at that, holding out his hands to gesture around, "Oh really? We aren't normal? Thanks, Miah, I never would've realized. Why do we have to be normal?" The boy softened a bit as he wiped an angry tear away, "Why do you have to care so much about being normal."

"Oh, I don't know,” Jeremiah feigned confusion, “Maybe it has something to do with spending _years_ being called a _pedophile_ by everyone," Jeremiah hissed. He watched Bruce's eyes widen, "Yeah, Bruce you never thought about that, did you? Never thought about what they said about the adult with a child for a soulmate. Never heard what they said when they noticed my eyes follow you around a room. What they said when they saw me watch you from across the room. You never thought about me!" Jeremiah shouted, face red. He knew he shouldn’t have been mad, Bruce had been so young and blinded by a false idea of love but the hurt ran too deep.

Bruce stayed silent the entire time, eyebrows furrowed and face painted with the perfect picture of exhaustion, "I'm sorry you had to deal with that Miah, but it wasn't like I picked this either. But it's different now, nobody is gonna call say shit to you for dating some of consenting age. I'm not a fucking child anymore,” Bruce was desperate and naive, but in that moment all he wanted was the love of his life back. Inside he knew he needed to understand Jeremiah and what he had to have felt, but all proper logic went out the window once Jeremiah showed up to the manor looking better than he had any right to. 

"Bruce, just because," Jeremiah sighed, "just because you've gotten older doesn't mean the things they said go away. The difference is still there, the gap is still there. We can't do anything to close it. I can't get younger and you can't get older," Jeremiah wanted to collapse to the grass, he'd spent years thinking about this moment and what he wanted to say, but now that the words were leaving his mouth it felt exhausting, "Everyone here knows us. Knows you, your age, _about me._ They'll all just say how I waited until you were old enough to molest and get away with it legally. Don't you understand? I'm doing this for you because _I love you._ "

Bruce had to choke back a harsher sob, face disoriented and fists balled at his sides, "Well you sure have a funny way of showing it, Valeska.” He hadn't meant to let the others old last name slip, but he did.”You sure as hell got a fucking funny way of showing love," it had started to rain around them as if it were some cliche rom-com which only made Bruce angrier. Especially since this had no guarantee of a happy ending, "I waited for years for the day I would get to be with you, Jeremiah. Hear you say those words to me. I guess I really never did think. I'm the idiot for ever thinking you could actually love me. I'm sorry for that."

"You really don't think I love you," Jeremiah mumbled, rain covering his glasses. He reached up and removed them, the world around them became fuzzy. Only Bruce was in focus, "Bruce, I have no one left. Jerome, my mother, my father, they're all gone. I only have you. Every day I woke up thinking of you and you were the last name on my lips before I went to bed. I only wanted to be with you. ” He rubbed the spot on his wrist where he knew the small mark was forever etched on his skin.

Bruce shook the hair from his eyes, the black strands of hair sticking to his forehead due to the rain. He looked younger in the rain as if everything that showed his age was being washed away. Jeremiah wanted to throw up, "Then why can't you now," his voice clearly cracked, but he was tired and everything he had waited for his entire life was two feet in front of him; arms distance away, "I’ve waited years to get to be with you, all my friends got to be with their soulmates and date throughout the years, but I didn't really even care about not getting to do all that stuff. You know why? Because I knew you were better than every single one of them," Bruce closed the distance to jab an accusing finger into the other's chest, “Every. Single. Damn. One. None could ever compare to you." His tears were hidden by the rain but the anger and fear was so obvious even then. 

Jeremiah's hands shook, glasses slipping from his grasp as they fell to the soft wet grass. Jeremiah watched Bruce's hand spread out and rest on his chest. He was sure the shorter man could feel his heart beating heavy in his chest. He raised a shaking hand to cover Bruce's with his own. The two stood in silence as the rain pelted down on them, he wondered if he could freeze this moment, "I can't _start this_ ," Jeremiah whispered. He felt Bruce tense and move to pull away but Jeremiah gripped his hand tight and held it to his chest, "I can't start this," he repeated, "But I won't stop you. Bruce, I won't stop you," Jeremiah took a half step closer, "Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the ending is up to you.
> 
> You have two to pick from, good or bad.
> 
> Chapter 2 has the good ending and Chapter 3 has the not so good ending.
> 
> Enjoy.


	2. Good Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't read any farther if you only want the bad ending

Bruce looked into the other's eyes for a moment, bending down, his one hand still trapped in the others grasp and using his free hand to grab the glasses from the grass. Pausing for a moment, he slowly slipped the glasses back on the other's face and moved to cup his cheek. This closeness reminded him of the time when he was sixteen and tried this before only to be rejected. Would he be rejected again even now? Bruce, hands still resting softly on the side of the other man’s face, took a deep breath, "Please don't leave again," it was barely a whisper before he gently leaned up and pressed his lips to the other like he had wanted to do for years.

The gentle press of lips left them both gasping. Jeremiah released the boy’s hand to run a hand through his hair, it was wetter than he had always imagined but he couldn't find it in him to care. Bruce raised his other hand to cup both sides of his face trying to get more of him, more of anything. Jeremiah sighed into the soft press of lips. Something he had thought about for years but only now been allowed to have. He pulled back with a gasp when he felt Bruce’s tongue touch his lips. He rested his forehead on the younger man’s, trying to hold himself together. Jeremiah felt a sob rise in his throat and rip its way out of his mouth. He moved his hands to grip Bruce's hips, afraid he'd be ripped away, "Never, I'll never leave you again. I couldn't if I tried.”

Bruce thinks he means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE COMMENT WHAT YOU THOUGHT ABOUT OUR JOINT STORY!!!


	3. Bad Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dont read anymore if you want the good ending!

Bruce took a step back, hand sliding from Jeremiah's hold, “Miah, if you can’t start this then how can you expect me to be the one to do it? It came out bitter, words like acid on his tongue.

Jeremiah gasped at the words as if they physically pained him, the acid reaching him too, “So, we’re really ending it like this? Why even contact me then, Bruce?”

Bruce looked back at the house. He started walking away, leaving Jeremiah in the rain behind him, however, he briefly stopped walking, “I guess I wanted answers...and a proper goodbye. Maybe we could’ve had something if you weren't so scared Miah, but that probably won't ever change. Goodbye Jeremiah,” he closed the door behind him once he reached it. 

Jeremiah stood, rain falling violently around him as he watched the only thing he thought was a constant in his world leave. He glanced down and saw his glasses, smashed and broken just like him. He felt a smile split across his face and laughter bubble up. 

Before he knew it, he stood gasping for air as the laughs spilled from his lips, it really was funny. This felt like a joke worth dying for, worth killing for; and with the state of his world already in under shambles, the latter of the two started to sound very entertaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did you read the bad ending? Whats wrong with you?
> 
>  
> 
> LEAVE A COMMENT!!!

**Author's Note:**

> So the ending is up to you.
> 
> You have two to pick from, good or bad.
> 
> Chapter 2 has the good ending and Chapter 3 has the not so good ending.
> 
> Enjoy.


End file.
